Out There 2
by MistressKitty-chibi
Summary: Rogue returns, but Wolverine fears that she will run again.


Title: Out There II: Fall For a Shooting Star

Author: MistressKitty PG

Summary: Sequel to "Out there I: I Could Use a Friend"

Music: Lyrics are from the song "Drops of Jupiter" by Train.

Thanks: to Amber (for the rants), Allana (for the betas) and Diebin (for the inspiration).

POV: Wolverine

Out There II: Fall for a Shooting Star

I know what it's like to leave, to hide from reality. In fact, I've gotten quite good at running- having no memory and no attachments made it easy. I needed to be able to step away; needed somewhere to run to when I didn't have anywhere else to go. Too scared to deal with what I needed most, I would leave no trail to follow. I always ran because I was a coward. She ran because I wasn't one.

/Now that she's back in the atmosphere

With drops of Jupiter in her hair, hey, hey/

I watched her as she ran, saw the way she glanced back in my direction, horrified, her hair a swirl of mahogany and ice trailing out behind her while she ran. I sat like a child, wandering through the days thinking about her, wondering when she would return. Not if/when/. I needed her to come back to me; I needed her to need me as much as I did her. And finally, without any word to me, one day, she just appeared like everything was normal and the same as before she left (when everything was different). She was lounging on the floor of the mansion library, reading a book about the stars, and when I finally caught her eye from across the room, she seemed older. I noticed that the white streak in her hair was more pronounced, and I wanted to walk across the room, take her by the shoulders and demand an answer to what had happened to her. But I love her, so I waited.

/She acts like summer and walks like rain

Reminds me that there's a time to change, hey, hey/

So now as I wait in silence, she is all smiles. She is old, possessing old ancient smiles and hollow eyes that still occasionally glisten (and I wish that they were glistening for me). And then there are the times when I watch her from afar. She may be able to sense that I am there but she doesn't change her manner. Her whole body weeps sometimes, in the dark. But those aching eyes stay dry. And I wait for her in the background, always waiting for her to really come back, finally come back to me. She's changed, but then, so have I.

/Since the return from her stay on the moon

She listens like spring and she talks like June, hey, hey/

Sometimes I am lucky enough to catch her scent and feel her eyes on me. She holds her breath when I speak, and lets it all go when she thinks I'm not listening. I have become stalker-like in my affection for this small Southern young lady. I can no longer call her kid- not after I have looked into her eyes and seen how old she was inside. I discovered that if I sit in Storm's classroom in the evening with my ear pressed to the north wall, I could hear what is going on in the dorm room she shares with Kitty and Jubilee. I too hold my breath when she speaks, the lilting, fading accent is too precious to miss a minute of. She still wears the dog tags, but I can't let her know that I know. She's still afraid, deathly terrified, and I can respect that because I have been there so many times before that it's almost like breathing.

/Tell me, did you sail across the sun?

Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded

And that heaven is overrated/

I have to hold myself back sometimes, when I find myself wanting to shove her into the nearest wall and growl into her ear "Where have you been?". I don't want to scare her off again. With every glance into her pained eyes I realize how frail she really is. How frail she has been ever since John… and she's still frail now- although, different. She could run again. She's ready to run again. She knows that I care, and I think that's enough for now. I hope she knows that I love her too- I scream it to her in every move I make, in every smile, in every stare- just for her. I wonder if she found what she was looking for, when she ran, or if she just gave up as I have so many times. I wonder if she was really looking for me, or if that is just a foolish hope.

/Tell me, did you fall for a shooting star

One without a permanent scar/

She spends her nights on the roof of the mansion, alone, staring at the stars. I wish that I could climb up there and stare at the stars that I know are reflected in her eyes. She's in love with those stars. I know, because she told me. Not in so many words of course, but one morning she rushed up to me, hair flying, and a huge smile on her face. She was so much more beautiful to me- this time she was running /to/ instead of away. It made my heart sing. "Last night," she whispered, "I saw a shooting star." As she caught her breath, I think she realized what she had just done, and a panicked look came over her face. "What did you wish for?" My voice came out huskier than I'd have liked, and she looked up into my face, and turned and ran back in the direction she had come from. She wasn't really running this time; I trusted that she would stay. I stood in the hallway looking after her for a long time. Wondering- what her answer would be if I asked her again.

/And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there/

The next day, I showed up at the door to her room holding a book about the winter sky. There was a rose pressed between the middle pages, almost burning my hand with its existence, but I had to give it to her. I had to /do/ something. My world came to a screeching halt the second she opened the door. She rarely wears anything but black, for reasons of her own, but she was dressed in a pale lavender dress. Her scarf and gloves were white, sharply contrasting with her dark curls. She looked breathtaking. Her hair was piled up on top of her head, and as she tried to catch her breath, I took in every bit of her that I could in the few minutes I had. The strands of hair falling loose from their hold, brushing across the back of her neck made me wish she could lose her mutant powers for a while. "I brought… you a book." It was on the tip of my tongue to ask why she was dressed up, but I realized that it was none of my business for now. Awkwardly, I thrust the book towards her, praying that her cottony gloves would brush my hand. God blessed me that day. "I hope you like it." And with that, I walked from her door as casually as I could muster, cringing because I could never touch her skin.

/Now that she's back from that soul vacation

Tracing her way through the constellation, hey, hey/

The next morning I woke to a surprise. She was sitting on the floor of my room. She was wearing a simple white nightgown, and her gloved fingers were tracing the lines of the book she held out in front of her. I silently arose, and approached her, sitting down next to her. "What are you reading?" I asked.

She looked shocked to find me awake. "I- I… The book you gave me. The light in here, it's- it's good."

I glanced up at the window that only let in enough light to let me see her face, and I knew that she was lying (but it felt good, oh, so good). "Well, don't let me bother you." I stood, and opened the blinds some more, and turned on a light. I suddenly felt uncomfortable when her eyes stayed on me and didn't return to the book. I headed into the bathroom to put on a shirt.

/She checks out Mozart while she does tae-bo

Reminds me that there's a room to grow, hey, hey/

I am never surprised now when I discover her asleep on my chair, or on the floor in my room. She always has her book with her, and sometimes she'll spend all day long with me, without ever saying anything. Yesterday she hefted in her CD player, and listened to Mozart for two hours. The day before, I came in from breakfast to see her practicing martial arts on my furniture. She keeps some of her things in my room, under the chair where she thinks I won't notice. But I am the Wolverine, and if she's touched it, I know that it's there.

I am changing, for her, for myself. Whatever the cause, I am different now. Softer. Sometimes, I just catch her gloved hand in mine and think her name so loudly that I think everyone can hear it, and she smiles at me, and I know that this is all worth it. Because of her. "Marie."

/Now that she's back in the atmosphere

I'm afraid that she might think I'm a plain ol' Jane

Told a story about a man who was too afraid to fly so her never did land/

Its morning now, and I can feel her arms around me. I felt her when she crawled in next to me last night, but I pretended to be sleeping. Juvenile, certainly, but worth seeing her hair matted down around her face. Worth having her scent gather around me so thickly that I could drown in it. Worth the feeling of completion she gives me. I brush her hair back from her face, unafraid of what my happen if my fingers slip a millimeter too far. She blinks slowly, looks up at me, and smiles.

"Do you want to hear about my dream?" she asks me, her voice cloudy with sleep.

"Sure," I answer gruffly, pleased that she isn't running and screaming from my room.

"It was about a man. He looked kind of like you, actually, but with less hair." (She smiled cheekily). "He had to go on a plane for a business meeting, or something, but he was so afraid, so, so scared. He didn't ever want to go up in the sky on something as tiny (tiny in comparison to the world) as an airplane. But his wife, she kept telling him that he had to go, he had to or else he would lose his job (and her)." She paused for a moment, and I took the opportunity to ask, "What did he do?". She had started to speak and I didn't ever want her to stop again.

"He just sort of left himself for a while. His wife left him, and she wondered the whole time when he would come back to earth. He was so out there. Weirdo."

I smiled. I knew how they felt.

/Tell me, did the wind sweep you off your feet?

Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day

And head back to the Milky Way/

We are eating breakfast now; it's late so no one else is around. She has a bowl of Lucky Charms and milk with a glass of White Grape Apple juice. She tries to convince me that the blend is actually quite good, but that she has to buy it for herself because no one else here will even try it. I take a sip to please her and I scowl because it actually tastes good, and now I have to eat my words as well as my breakfast. We sit in silence for a few moments, just enjoying having each other so near after being apart for so long.

"Are you scared?"

"Terrified."

"Good. Me too. Just wanted to make sure we were on the same page."

/And tell me, did Venus blow your mind

Was it everything you wanted to find/

"Where did you go?" I can't resist any longer, and I regret asking it immediately because she breaks eye contact and stares into her cereal.

"It's not important. I came back, though." And her eyes have captured mine again, and all of a sudden, it doesn't matter where she was or where I was. All that matters is that we've both found what we've been looking for and it's right here.

/And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there/

The words start to tumble from her mouth as we walk through the woods. She didn't even know what she was running from, no that's a lie, she was running from me. Wait, no, not me, it was the fact that I loved her, that I was ready to do anything for her, and… John. She didn't know if she was ready to accept my love yet. She /was/ ready, she just didn't realize it. She realizes it now. (She takes my hand). She missed me. And now she's found what she's been searching for out there. (She looks up into my eyes, and she smiles. I feel like I could sing.)

/Can you imagine no love, pride, deep-fried chicken?

Your best friend always sticking up for you even when I know you're wrong

Can you imaging no first dance, freeze-dried romance, five hour phone conversation

The best soy latte that you ever had… and me/

I can't help myself. I take, and sit her down next to me right there on the forest floor. I ask her if she is ready for this- if she can see us twenty years in the future. She looks at me like I'm a little crazy (I feel a little crazy, she does that to me), but she scoots closer when I whisper, "I can."

She cups my face with one gloved hand and drawls, "Can you show me?"

I lean in, and kiss her lightly on her rosy lips, just enough to start to feel the pull, and then I pull away. Not because I'm unwilling, but because I don't think she's willing to take.

/Tell me, did the wind sweep you off your feet?

Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day

And head back to the Milky Way/

"I'm ready. I have been for a long time."

/Tell me, did you sail across the sun?

Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded

And that heaven is overrated/

"Let's go inside." And she takes my hand, and leads me to the roof of the mansion, where we wait for the evening to watch the stars. It wasn't until then that I realized that she'd put the rose I gave her in her hair.

/Tell me, did you fall for a shooting star

One without a permanent scar?

And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there/

And night falls, and the stars appear. And then she whispers the wish that has lingered in my mind to me. And I smile, and I take her hand.

/And did you finally get the change to dance along the light of day/

And we begin to dance.

/And did you fall for a shooting star, fall for a shooting star/

And a star shoots across the sky, and it meets another star, and the show of lights when they meet is amazing.

/And were you lonely looking for yourself out there/

finis


End file.
